Sunday - January 14, 2007

The M.V. Doulos: an educational experience gone awry. 

This Sunday, the queue to board the MV Doulos, billed as the world's largest floating bookstore and oldest ocean-going passenger ship, was as long as -- or even longer -- than the one for FPJ's wake. The ship certainly drew a bigger crowd than the Pussycat Dolls and the Lettermen concerts combined. The queue was duodenally magnificent, a monstrosity of a line, a line so heavy it bent space-time around itself and induced hallucinations among sentient beings.

It was my mom's idea. I went along for the educational experience. We were educated in suffering and patience. (Which was only appropriate, as the M.V. Doulos carries a Christian flock.) We queued for two hours, under the darkening sky. Sweat, sewage, the tang of rusting iron, hot cement.

But Lucien didn't care. Lucien was incoherent with joy. He squealed and ran and wiggled and jumped and seemed to have more energy than the three adults accompanying him. He loved seeing all the people, and was bursting with curiosity. The to-the-bone exhaustion was worth it, really, because he had so much fun. No matter how my feet hurt or my arms twinged with pain, a delighted "Mamamamaba!" was more than enough consolation.

We only stayed in the ship thirty minutes. By the time we made it up, I was dehydrated and dizzy. Lucien chewed a book about horses, so of course we paid for it and took it home. There were many cookbooks, Bibles, children's books, and cassette tapes -- what a retro sight! -- for 50 pesos apiece. The staff were friendly, helpful and unfrazzled, even if they'd been dealing with the crush of people all day. Who knew so many Manileños wanted books today?